


A Kick In The Head

by Baroness_Blixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, bed sharing, migraines are a bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 19:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15250857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_Blixen/pseuds/Baroness_Blixen
Summary: Scully isn't feeling well, but luckily Mulder is there.





	A Kick In The Head

Mulder is sitting on the bed in his motel room when it happens. A sunflower seed between his teeth, his mind on the case and his finger tapping against the dog-eared file, he is in his own world. Until a crash from the other side of the wall startles him. Loose papers slide to the floor, uncaring. Mulder is on his feet in an instant, his hand reaching for the gun on his nightstand. He doesn’t even think about knocking when he bursts through the adjoining door. The room is dark as he enters. Quiet, too. 

“Scully?” Blindly, he searches the light switch he knows has to be right next to the door, just like in his own room.

“Mulder?” Her voice is slurred; has she been drinking? They only said goodnight an hour ago. She’s been subdued today, way too silent for his liking. He’s asked her once and her I’m fine was reason enough not to ask again. As much as it hurts him when she shuts him out, he knows she needs to do it from time to time. That’s his Scully, after all. “Don’t turn on the lights, please.”

“Why not?” He is uncertain, tries to see in the darkness. The light that streams in from his room is not enough. “I heard a crash. Are you all right?”

“Knocked over the lamp on the nightstand.” Her voice comes from the left and so he directs his eyes there. He squints and can make out her silhouette. At least he thinks he can.

“You’re all right?” The weapon in his hand feels heavy and unnecessary. He puts it on the small armchair that sits in the corner. Scully doesn’t answer him, makes no noise whatsoever. “Scully, I’m turning on the lights.”

“No.” Comes her feeble attempt to stop her, but he’s faster. Scully groans as the ceiling light sputters to life. Mulder can finally see the room, see her. She’s on the floor next to the bed, her head on her arms, and his heart breaks. “No, Mulder.” Another try to keep him away, but when has he ever listened? As he approaches her, he realizes why she didn’t want him to turn on the lights. She’s been sick halfway between the bed and the bathroom. Mulder crouches next to her and puts his hand on her back. She’s clammy and shudders against his touch.

“Scully, what is it? You’re worrying me.” And even that is an understatement. Mulder considers picking her up and carrying her straight to the hospital. He knows she would never let him do that. He brushes a few strands of hair away so he can see her face. It’s pale, like a sheet of paper, and sweaty, yet cool to his touch. A sweat breaks out on his back. There’s a medical condition for this and all he remembers is that it’s not a good sign. But Scully is the doctor and he knows nothing but his concern for her.

“Migraine,” she says finally, the single word an obvious effort. “Bad one.”

“Let me help you up,” Scully is like a rag doll in his arms, but she doesn’t complain. He holds her up, his arm around her waist. Carrying her is still an option. “Can you stand on your own? Scully?”

“Yes.” Mulder is mindful that she doesn’t step on the broken glass on the ground and leads her out of her room. Under different circumstances, Scully would tell him not to leave it like this. The broken lamp (he’ll pay for it himself, if he has to) and the mess on the floor. Right now, she doesn’t seem to care for anything. She moans when harsh light hits her face. Mulder leaves her side, quickly takes off his sweater and flings it over his own bedside lamp. The room is immediately bathed in a dim blue light. He gently pushes Scully to sit on his bed. To his surprise, she curls up into a small ball, her face turned away from him. Mulder is painfully reminded of her cancer. He’s only ever seen her like this once. He’s hoped he never had to again.

“Can I do anything? Do you have any medication you need to take?” Mulder doesn’t dare ask the questions he really wants to ask, fears the answers anyway. Is this it, Scully? Is the cancer back? Did it never really leave her body? Was it just hiding from them for a short, sweet while?

“In my bag.” Mulder nods, not that she sees it. He hurries back into her room and retrieves her bag. He rummages through it, ignores how intimate it feels. There’s a small bottle with pills and he takes it with him. Quickly, he pours a glass of water and hands it to Scully with two pills in his hand. Scully is slow in sitting up, her eyes barely open. Mulder just watches in pain. As soon as she’s downed the pills, she hands the half empty glass back to him. He wants to tell her to drink it all, after all it’s what she always tells him, too, but he doesn’t have the heart.

“I’ll be right back.” Mulder promises; he has an idea. He leaves the glass on the nightstand, grabs his key and leaves the room. He knows it’s going to take less than five minutes, but the thought of leaving Scully alone even for a second fills him with dread. The ice machine, luckily, is full and Mulder scoops up a generous amount. Back in his room, Scully hasn’t moved at all.

“Scully?” He whispers. If she’s asleep, he doesn’t want to wake her.

“’m awake,” Scully says. She doesn’t sound better than when he found her. Neither does she look better.

“I brought ice. Will that help?”

“Yeah.” Mulder sighs in relief. He searches for a small bag, anything really, to put the ice in, but there’s nothing. A t-shirt will have to do, he decides. He puts the ice on the clean cotton and rolls it up. It’s cold and wet and probably not the best solution. Not that he cares. The bed dips as he sits down and presses the cold against Scully’s neck. She sighs. She sounds relieved, almost.

“Feel good?” He doesn’t expect and answer and doesn’t get one. Mulder listens to her breathing, monitors it. It’s calm and even, sounds normal. He sits against the headboard and doesn’t let go of the shirt, which by now is sufficiently wet. It doesn’t matter. If it helps Scully, nothing else is important. He closes his eyes, listens and waits.

“Mulder?” Scully’s voice, clear as fresh water now, whispers close to him. Mulder opens his eyes with difficulty. He’s no longer sitting up, but lying next to her, their faces close. She’s smiling softly, if a bit shyly. “Hi.” They must have both fallen asleep at some point.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m better now. I’m sorry, Mulder.”

“What are you sorry for?” He yawns, his brain is slow on catching up.

“I should have taken something before it got so bad. I didn’t mean for you to find me like that.”

“I’m glad I did, Scully.” They look at each other, sharing the same air. Mulder notices that Scully smells minty fresh. She must have gotten up at some point to brush her teeth. “Scully… is this… was this…” He swallows hard, wonders if she can hear the question in the words he doesn’t say. She puts a hand on his cheek as if he were the one who’s been sick, as if he needed the comfort.

“I’m not sick, Mulder. I’m still in remission. Remember my doctor’s appointment two weeks ago? I’m fine, I’m healthy. I’ve been having migraines ever since I was a child. I haven’t had one in a while and I ignored the signs.”

“I was so worried, Scully.” Mulder wonders what she’d do if he leaned closer and kissed her. He wants to know what she tastes like. He wants to make certain she really is all right. But he doesn’t dare, not now. “Next time please tell me when you’re not feeling well. No matter what it is.”

“Mulder…”

“Scully, please. Just… I’m not going to think of you any less, you know that. I just want to know.” She licks her lips before she nods.

“I can do that. I promise. Mulder?”

“Hm?”

“We’re in a wet spot.” He grins at her and Scully may roll her eyes at him, but her smile is unmistakably.

“Not the kind of wet spot I would-”

“Mulder.”

“Sorry. I think the ice has completely melted. We could go to your room, but…” Scully blushes. “Scoot closer.” She looks at him as if he was crazy. “Come on, Scully. My side of the bed is dry.” He waggles his eyebrows and she really does scoot closer. Mulder is on the edge of the mattress now, but he doesn’t mind. He puts his hand on her waist and draws her to him. She gasps.

“Because of the wet spot,” he says right against her forehead, moves his lips downwards until they’re almost right against hers. “Sleep, Scully.” She nods against him and later he will swear that their mouths connected in that moment, not even by accident, and that it was the sweetest kiss he’s ever experienced.


End file.
